Insanity
by almondcrescent
Summary: When Ron leaves them during their journey, all Harry and Hermione have is each other. And the lack of a lover lies heavily upon them - quite insanely, they let themselves go... My take on what happened during DH. H/HR, try and read!


**Disclaimer:** Okay, I won't even try to claim those characters :P You all know whom I really love, so it's obvious this is just a little break from tradition.

**Warning:** Out of character and a light M, that's all…

**Author's Note:** This is so unusual from my other stuff! I'll admit that it's slightly OOC and could never really have happened. But something in the way Harry and Hermione treated each other during DH made me think of this – the title is actually fitting because it's both implausible and I must be insane to post it. But well… just try and read it and then we can see whether I did an okay job… I can't judge it myself yet.

* * *

**Insanity**

* * *

He woke from an uneasy sleep, wondering what had distracted him from his gloomy dreams in which he kept hearing Ron's voice over and over.

Then he noticed the light and realized that Hermione was still where he had left her, in the armchair with a blanket thrown over her body. He quietly stood up and walked towards her.

She lay there, crying and shaking violently. And he didn't have a clue about what he could possibly do.

„Hermione," he whispered, „Hermione, please…"

"Just leave me alone Harry." she sobbed, her face hidden beneath her hands.

He hesitated. Then he reached out and tentatively touched her arm. She didn't seem to notice. His hand moved further upwards, until it rested on her shoulder.

"Hermione," he whispered again. "Please."

"What do you want me to do, Harry?" she snapped. "Go ahead and pretend nothing has happened? You know what? I ran after him before. I even screamed his name, dammit! Don't expect me not to care, okay? Just – just go, Harry." He had never seen her this way. She must be completely out of herself…

"I know," he said very softly. "Just… go to bed. It'll do you good. I can't stand leaving you here crying your eyes out."

"Oh Harry –" she broke into tears again, and before he could do anything about it, she glided from the chair and onto the floor next to him, and threw her arms around him. He patted her back hesitantly while she cried. After a short while, she withdrew from him and looked at him with wet eyes.

"I'm sorry, Harry… I should've remembered you don't feel comfortable being hugged…"

"Oh that's okay, Hermione," he said, perhaps a little too fast. It had been a long time since he had had a female body pressed against his…

What was wrong with him, having such thoughts? He was the greatest hero of the whole damn wizarding world, and all he thought about was how good her breasts had felt to his chest.

"It's okay," he repeated, feeling rather stupid.

Tears were still running down her face. Her chocolate brown eyes were swimming in water and he really couldn't see her crying any longer.

"Is there – is there anything I can do?" again, he felt stupid for saying it. At least it had been his fault that caused her to be so unhappy. The thought of Ron raised a strong feeling of anger in his chest, but there was hurt, too.

"You could – could you just distract me? Anyhow," she said and looked helplessly to the floor.

He choked as his mind wandered once more to things he really shouldn't be thinking of. He blushed.

"Umm… got anything in mind?"

She looked up. Then she hugged him again, tightly, and she didn't let go.

"Just be there," she whispered.

They sat like this for a long time, immersed in the shimmering golden light that fell from an antique table lamp next to them.

He turned his head and, pressing his face into her silky brown curls, closed his eyes.

Her eyes fluttered shut as well, as she took deep breaths to calm herself. Slowly, one of her hands glided into his raven hair. It had grown longer during their journey, which suited him very well. Her other hand slid down his back. He shivered slightly.

"Hermione – I think we shouldn't – think about what this looks like –" he began.

"Shh," she soothed him. "Just stay there. We're alone… we only have each other" at this thought, another tear rolled down her cheek.

He felt the wet drop landing on his neck and all he wanted to do was make it better for her. He turned his head towards her sweetly smelling hair and placed the softest of kisses on her cheek.

"It'll be alright," he said. "I promise."

They fell asleep clinging to each other.

* * *

The next morning when Hermione awoke, she softly detached herself from Harry so she didn't wake him.

She looked down at him as she sat; he looked so peaceful in his sleep. She gently stroked his head before standing up.

Looking at him, she noticed once more what she had already remarked a year ago. He had indeed grown into quite a handsome young fellow.

* * *

The day was awkward.

They did their best to avoid touching each other, and when they accidentally did, a shiver ran down their spines.

Their expression resembled their feelings; woeful and drained.

* * *

They had moved their beds closer together, so they could be able to look at each other properly and didn't have to talk too loudly. Hermione's hand was hanging lazily from her bed, her fingers looking remarkably graceful and petite.

As they talked once more about their plans for the week, he found his gaze torn between her lovely warm brown eyes, her rosy lips and her delicately pale hand as the fire threw soft shadows on her silhouette.

"Harry, are you still listening to me?" she said with half a smile.

He smirked guiltily. "No."

"Well, as I said, I suggest we next move in the direction of Bristol and then get to –"

Attention slipped from him again as he idly listened to her voice.

"… is that okay with you?"

He looked up, awakened from his little observations and thrown back into reality.

"Yeah, sure," he said hastily.

For some time, silence was reining their conversation. Then Hermione looked at him again, and he could see tears welling up in her eyes.

"What d'you think, will he ever come back?" she asked, and sounded desperate.

He gazed back at her, with a – or so he hoped – comforting look. "I'm… sure he will. It's gonna be alright… it… yeah, it's gonna be fine."

Her lips lifted into a watery smile.

His hand moved of its own accord, withdrew itself from the blankets he had draped over himself and joined hers in the space between their beds. Tentatively, softly, he entwined their fingers.

"It's gonna be alright," he said yet again. The phrase always seemed to reassure her.

She moved to the edge of her bed, nearer towards him. She opened her mouth, and closed it again, changing her mind. She threw him another insecure glance before she leaned over and placed her lips on his.

She felt different, different from everything he'd tasted before. He felt stupid comparing her with Ginny, but he noticed she felt more sensual, gentler and even more feminine.

She withdrew, and her expression showed reluctance and guilt.

He wasn't ready to leave her beautiful lips just yet. And now it was suddenly him who made the first move, and leaned over in order to return the kiss.

It was deeper that time, and he couldn't suppress a soft moan when she nibbled on his bottom lip. She granted him entrance, and when their tongues first touched, it felt like heaven.

Their hands still linked, they kept snogging until both of them seemed to remember who they were.

They looked at each other. Harry flicked his wand and turned off the light. Hermione turned away in her bed, signalizing she wanted to sleep.

Later, when he as well tried to find sleep but wasn't able to rest, he heard her crying quietly in the dark.

* * *

It went on for three days. Three days of awkwardness, when they barely even talked to each other, but at night, when the lights went out and the dark shielded them, their lips found each other.

In these times, they felt alive, they felt young, excited, and sought comfort from the other.

* * *

And after three days of this and after nearly a week since the first time they'd touched, there was an evening when things kind of got out of control.

They sat across from each other at the small table, enjoying a relatively delicious meal consisting of some sandwiches Hermione had bought at a small muggle kiosk. It was nice; they nearly smiled contentedly.

Their knees were touching beneath the table, and once Hermione shifted and positioned her legs right between his. If she kept on doing this, it would be a slow death…

* * *

He didn't understand what was going on with him.

He must be completely out of his mind, and he put the blame on the locket that balefully lay between them, and the fact that it was just the two of them and, that, well, he was just a man, and men had needs… He desperately tried to think of the most ridiculous reasons for his feelings.

This wasn't right, he knew, and still he couldn't help it. He wanted her. And he wanted to soothe her, to soothe himself, to make her happy. So if this made them both feel better, _why the hell not_?

* * *

They sat on the little sofa, thighs and hands touching, looking at each other. In what had somehow become order of the day; instead of talking, Harry bent over and kissed her.

They didn't know how they'd gotten there, in this situation, in these circumstances and together, but journeys and times like that made you insane.

When she reluctantly took his hand and placed it on her chest, he looked at her questioningly and she returned the glance earnestly.

"Do it," she whispered. "Just do it."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Damn, I'm not even sure myself –" He looked at her desperately.

"This feels wrong," he said. "It feels _so_ wrong."

"I know, but the feeling might just be your usual hero complex," she suggested stupidly, and he couldn't even be angry with her. She was too beautiful, in both body and mind to be angry with, and she was all he had at the time.

"Still, you know what I mean. It's wrong. I – I love Ginny, and I know you love Ron." They both flinched at the name. "So why are we doing this?"

"Because we are humans. We need each other, Harry. And why not make this time worthwhile?"

With this, she pulled her shirt over her head.

And he lost all sense.

"I never knew this side of you," he smiled.

"No one does," was her reply.

So he committed the sin he would never forget in his life. Later on, he would kind of repress it, and blame it on all the circumstances, still he never dared to tell anyone, ever.

He bent over and placed his lips on hers again, tenderly locking them together.

* * *

She led his hand up her chest, placing it on one of her breasts. His breathing stopped for a moment, and a slight blush crept up his cheek which she found adorable.

All thought was wiped from their heads as they concentrated solely on touch.

She gently pulled his shirt over his head, and pressed her mouth against his once more. Their tongues performed a dance, while one of her hands was feeling up his chest and the other one was buried in his silky raven hair. He expertly unhooked her bra – she hadn't expected such skill and had to admit to herself she was quite impressed.

They sank deeper and deeper into oblivion, forgetting who they were, as her fingers played with the waistband of his jeans and she looked at him coyly.

They seemed to slip out of themselves as he grew more voluptuous and she became more and more sensual.

Meanwhile, he trailed a line of feathery kisses down her neck. She moaned and arched upward as he turned his attention towards her breasts and kissed them softly. A blurry thought crossed her head, that considering his inexperience, he did an awesome job.

Soft moans wavered in the dark. There was no light except some moonbeams that stole through the fabric of the tent.

In silent agreement, they fell onto the sofa, him on top. Their clothes seemed to vanish of their own accord, and as she wrapped her legs around him, they looked at each other once again.

It was a strange look, one of desperation, a questioning look, and then a look that said it was all okay, at least for the moment.

They pressed their lips together as he gently entered her. Then they experienced a very different magic; one they hadn't known of before.

* * *

Another morning came, and she woke up in his arms again. She sighed contentedly before she remembered reality.

They both agreed it had to remain a one-time thing. They had to try to remain sane and focused on what was real, what was coming towards them inexorably.

It had made them feel better though. Even a week afterwards, the afterglow of pleasure helped them through. And nevertheless, until the night of Ron's return, they fell asleep in each other's arms time and again.

* * *

Oh, I really don't know whether it's good or anything - I really really don't know. I'll be happy about any review. Virtual cookies! tries to bribe


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